


I Know You're a Fighter (It's Gonna Be Better)

by sweeterthankarma



Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, F/F, F/M, Fighting (both physically and emotionally), Protective Dolls
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-06
Updated: 2018-01-06
Packaged: 2019-03-01 08:22:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13290912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweeterthankarma/pseuds/sweeterthankarma
Summary: Snark Noir requested, "Dolls, already testy, enters the bar and finds two idiots threatening Waverly."





	I Know You're a Fighter (It's Gonna Be Better)

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from the song "Halcyon" by Ellie Goulding.

Dolls never drinks, but nearly every day he finds himself walking through the doors of Shorty’s and taking a seat at the corner of the bar, greeting Waverly who immediately hands him a coffee. Alcohol has never been something he's enjoyed or specifically wanted, but it's always a good idea to be in the know of what's going on in Purgatory, and finding out through drunken, loud civilians is the best way to do so that doesn't feel like work. 

Doc’s ownership of the bar had given Waverly an opportunity to go back to bartending, and while both he and Nicole have wondered aloud why she returned to being gawked at by the same men that had surrounded her with judgment for her whole life, Dolls also understands. It's a sense of normalcy in chaos, a routine, a piece of the past that is still possible to keep intact, even if it isn't ideal. 

    “It's a way to relax a bit and just feel normal,” Dolls had overheard the younger Earp explain to her girlfriend after announcing that she was returning to work. “After everything that's happened, I just want to feel like me, you know? I spent so many years working there, and honestly it was kind of fun. Besides, I just need a distraction from  _ only  _ researching revenants every day.”

Admittedly, Dolls feels a responsibility to make sure Bobo hasn't returned and reclaimed the bar as his own. There's been too many revenant fights that have occurred in those saloon walls, sometimes Dolls forgets it's actually a saloon and not a designated place to watch Wynonna put down revenants.

Speaking of Wynonna, it may partly be her influence too, as to why Dolls has started spending so much time at the bar. Losing Alice has made her even more protective, and Dolls sees the fear in her eyes every time Waverly doesn't pick up her phone the first time she calls. He's amazed that Wynonna has made it this far without breaking, and God knows she has in the past, but it’s Waverly that has held her down, wiped her tears, and been there for her when no one else was. Wynonna needs Waverly- hell, they all do- so he’d rather be safe than sorry by checking in every now and then. 

Wynonna also was the reason why he was walking down the street a bit faster than usual, boots on the concrete a little harder than normal. The way he feels about her is something he pushes away, has to pretend to ignore, especially when they’re working. She’d been ridiculously difficult today, forty five minutes late in the morning and coffee-less. She’d been bringing coffees in to work for both of them the past few weeks, seeing as they’d both gotten tired of the coffee at the station, especially as Nedley had replaced the normal brand with a cheaper kind that Wynonna complained tasted like cardboard and gravel. He agreed with her, although he wouldn’t admit it. 

But she’d “forgotten” about the coffee and been less than cooperative all day, resulting in two revenants getting away from them and a bit of a blowout from Dolls as she simply brushed it off. After Bobo’s return, barely defeating the widows, and losing Alice, Wynonna was discouraged and he couldn’t blame her, but it was still frustrating when she acted like there was no point to even trying. 

    “You know, there’s no reason for me to even be here anymore,” he had said almost through gritted teeth on the drive back, “Without Black Badge, I don’t have to be. But I  _ am,  _ so I’d appreciate it if my hard work wasn’t brushed away every damn day.”

    “ _ Your _ hard work?” she’d snapped back, arms crossed and eyes shooting daggers, “I’m the one who has to do all of this myself.  In case you forgot, no one else can do any of this shit but me. Some days I don’t want to- hell, most days I don’t want to- but I do. Sorry I fucked up, but I’ll give it another shot tomorrow. Don’t really have a choice anyways.”

He’s quiet, seething but willing himself to calm down because he knows she’s right, at least a little bit. She’s missed revenants before, not in a while, not since she was just learning how to handle Peacemaker or when Willa’s return was interfering, but it’s happened. He should cut her a break, after all the pain and loss she’s been through it’s remarkable she’s even done as much as she has. He knows all of this, wishes she knew that he knew, but instead of apologizing or saying anything to improve the situation, he simply mutters, “you didn’t even try.”

The silence that follows stings. He’d been mulling over her words, sympathetic but still testy, and he still managed to say the wrong thing. The closed-off, vulnerable voice in the back of his head that he’d managed to push away so many times- all the times he encouraged her, was there for her, kissed her,  _ hell,  _ snuck into the Ghost River Triangle when doing so could’ve gotten him killed- is awake now. A snarky,  _ “I told you so, you’re no good for her or anyone else and this is why you keep your mouth shut and stop feeling things”  _ comes from his subconscious and he clenches his jaw, hard.

    “Neither did you,” she replies, and it hits him so hard he can feel it in his chest, burning and tearing a hole where his heart is. There’s venom in her voice, but it’s veiled by a sense of sadness that means so many things that they both can’t decode. She’s right, of course, there’s so many things he could have done to save both of them, physically and emotionally, so many times. But instead, he listened to the voice that told him he was better off alone. 

When they reach the homestead and he puts the car in park, Wynonna gets out without a word. He knows the voice in his head is wrong.

  
  


Today,  Dolls almost walks past Shorty’s, too tired and frustrated to deal with other people any longer, even the littlest Earp who always has a tendency to make him smile, even when he doesn't want to. Especially when her sister is often making him consider ordering a beer.

He only makes it a few steps past the building before he hears the sound of glass shattering, and he instantly turns around, spinning on his heels and yanking open the wooden door to the bar  _ fast _ .

It’s quiet inside, voices hushed as all eyes are on two men at the corner of the bar. Dolls sidesteps when he approaches glass shards on the floor in front of him and gives Ralph, the newest, rather anxious employee, a glare and tips his head towards the closet where the brooms are. Ralph has only been working for a few weeks, but every day when Dolls comes in, he’s always at the same table in the corner, rubbing the wood with a washcloth frantically. The other tables stay dirty, of course.

There’s a sour taste in Doll’s mouth, tension building, as he sees Waverly, holding an empty container of alcohol and looking frightened. She has one arm around her middle, and Dolls notices with a sickening drop in his stomach that she’s clearly attempting to cover the bare skin that her tied t shirt, now crop top, exposes. 

    “I don’t see the problem, Waverly,” one of the men cornering her drawls, clearly intoxicated. “We just wanna take you for a ride, get some alcohol in you- hell, we could do that here, I mean look at all that you have-” a tall, scruffy blond gestures to the variety of alcohol around the room, all on display atop counters and shelves- “and then...you know, we’ll get something else into you.”

Snickers come from across the room and Waverly turns pale, stepping back, far into the employee space of the bar. One of the other men, a shorter redhead, hops the counter- definitely for dramatic effect, because there was an opening he could walk through- and steps  _ far too close  _ to her. 

Dolls thinks he hears Waverly say, “I have a girlfriend” or maybe even “I have a boyfriend”, because he knows that men like this are better at viewing another man as competition than recognizing a women’s right to say no, or to love another woman. But he isn’t sure what exactly she says because there’s blood rushing in his ears, pounding, and with a deafening crack his fist meets the taller man’s ear. 

Someone jumps on his back but with a slight lurch backwards they’re off him. He serves punches faster than the breaths come and he’s yelling something about them getting out of town and never coming back or laying a hand on another Earp again but his words aren’t cohesive because his movements are  _ better.  _ His knuckles meet leather and already bruised flesh, and when someone attempts to kick his legs out from under him he’s faster, leaping up to avoid them and angling just enough to push his foot into their groin in the process. 

Someone hands him a broken beer bottle- he thinks it’s Waverly, he sees gold nail polish and doesn’t have time to thank her or tell her that he’s got this, because he’s sure she can tell- and he’s smug as he towers over the man with red hair. He doesn’t even have to bring it down, the man’s out the back door in an instant, hollering scrambled apologies.

The blond is a little stronger and much more resilient. He stands, feet squared, across from Dolls, grinning wickedly despite his busted lip as Waverly pulls out her cell phone and dials a number- probably Wynonna, Dolls thinks, because well, they  _ are _ the cops. 

    “Calling for our Uber?” The prick asks with a grin. Dolls wonders how people can be this sadistic, how they can really prey on women like this and still look so smug. “Thanks babe, you’re so thoughtful.”

    “Nah, I’ll be your ride,” Dolls retorts, head tilted as he reaches out for the broken beer bottle. “I’d ask whether you’d like to walk or get escorted in an ambulance to the hospital, but I really don’t care that much about your preferences. I’ll get you there one way or another, though.”

Before the man can move or say anything in return, Dolls brings the beer bottle down on his shoulder. He doesn’t hit him as hard as he could, even though he wants to. He’ll do whatever it takes to protect Waverly, for sure, but he’s not a masochist. He’s good at fighting and knows it, but that doesn’t mean he likes it, doesn’t mean the sight of spilling blood and sound of cracked bones ever becomes normal.

    “If you ever come back here and try anything with miss Earp ever again-” Doll’s starts once he has him on the floor, a boot on his chest to keep him down, although it doesn’t seem like he’s capable of fighting anymore.

    “There’ll be hell to pay,” Wynonna’s voice calls from the doorway, finishing his sentence with a slam of the door in response. She stalks over, kicking beer bottles and pieces of glass in the process and pulls Peacemaker from the holster of her jeans. Finally safe, Waverly comes out from the bar where she had recoiled and reaches for Wynonna’s hand. The older Earp bends down, pressing a kiss to her head before wrapping an arm around her waist. Peacemaker still held high, it glows as she approaches the man on the ground. 

    “You’d think you’d know better by now then to mess with an Earp,” Wynonna says as the revenant’s eyes glow red. Dolls eases his pressure on his ribs, but doesn’t release him. He watches as Wynonna’s finger presses ever so slightly on the trigger.

    “Especially not Waverly,” Dolls says. Waverly beams at him, suddenly looking small. He makes a mental note to include her more often, to let her know how important her work is, as a part of this team. He knows she doubts herself, remembers how honored she was when he called her “Earp” for the first time. She deserves better- better than Wynonna’s trauma, better than his inability to communicate, better than this asshole on the floor, giving her grief when she’s trying to feel  _ normal. _

Wynonna meets Dolls’ eyes and there’s a softness in it that surprises him, given the whole situation between them and with the revenant at hand. Just as quickly as it’s there, though, it’s gone, Wynonna’s eyes switching back to the revenant’s, unforgiving. 

    “I would tell you to make your peace, but it’s clear you don’t have any in you.”

When the fire is gone and Shorty’s holds one less occupant, Dolls can finally breathe again. Waverly is in his arms in a second, head pressed against the crook of his neck, all floral sweetness and sugar scent enveloping him. 

    “Thank you so much,” she whispers into his jacket, and he holds her tighter when he realizes she’s crying. 

They both lose track of how long they stay like that, and Wynonna greets Nicole when she bursts in the door, red-faced and breathing heavily, obviously having rushed to get to Shorty’s. Her eyes darken as she takes in the scene, biting her lip as she sees Wynonna, quiet, and Dolls and Waverly still embracing.

When she clears her throat Waverly pulls away, giving Dolls one last teary look with so much emotion he thinks he could start crying too, before she falls into Nicole’s arms, relieved and relaxed.

Watching them, it suddenly hits Dolls how much they’ve had to endure so soon into their relationship, and it makes him sad. They deserve more, deserve a world where Waverly wouldn’t be in this situation to begin with. He can only hope that with one less revenant, they’re getting closer to that place.

Wynonna comes over to him then, standing close by his side with her eyes still close on Waverly. 

    “Thank you,” she says. A pause. And then, “I’m sorry.” There’s only remorse in her voice from unnecessary fights in the past, concern as to what things would be like if he hadn’t been here to rescue Waverly, if he hadn’t been here at all. 

    “Me too,” he says, and he means it. Looking down at her, there’s so much unsaid between them but also so much that they know. He’s never been the best at expressing how he feels, and neither has she, but he wants to be better, needs to be better.

    “About everything. I just...I think I worry and I don’t know how to tell you that and handle it in an appropriate way, and I also don’t give you enough credit.”

    “I don’t give  _ you  _ enough credit,” Wynonna says, moving closer so that the back of her hand brushes the back of his bruised one, shoulders bumping together. “You do so much for us and most of the time I treat you like shit. You don’t deserve that.”

Dolls shrugs, wrapping his arm around her shoulders. She rests against his side, head dipped against the lapel of his coat, and her own arm slings across his back. 

    “We all deserve better,” he says. 

She leans up to press her lips to his cheek. It’s quick and her mouth is cold and he wants to turn, to thread his fingers through her hair and warm her lips with the fire in his own mouth, but now isn’t the time. When she leans back into his side, he kisses the top of her head.

    “I think we’re getting there slowly,” Wynonna says after a moment. “Together.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to Snark Noir for this request and for all your lovely comments on my other fics! You're always giving me new ideas for things to write about that usually make me really emotional like this fic did, and it fuels me. Also, thanks to Charlie (yeehaught) for being my beta and proofreading this for me!
> 
> Always thankful for feedback and comments, both here and at my Tumblr under the same username.


End file.
